


Ice and Isolation

by ExaltedBrand



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: A Significant Amount of Hand Holding Actually, Crushes, Cute, Developing Friendships, F/F, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hugs, Letters, Light Angst, Loneliness, Stargazing, Strangers to Friends, Wholesome, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27210316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExaltedBrand/pseuds/ExaltedBrand
Summary: Three months on from Múspell's defeat, Ylgr receives a letter from someone she's dearly missed.
Relationships: Veronica/Ylgr (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 23





	1. The Letters in My Name

**Author's Note:**

> in which we can have just a little bit of wholesome angst. as a treat
> 
> Pairing suggestion from YuriHime

Rocks, lava, rocks, ruins. No matter how fast or far the two of them ran, Múspell folded in on itself: everything looked the same, everything sounded the same. Everything even smelt the same – sulphur and soot and the thick, choking smoke that filled up Ylgr’s chest and made her cough. It was like a maze. Like a horrible, endless maze that was fighting against them, trying to keep them trapped. Trapped to feed its flames, to eat them up and burn them to bits. They had to keep moving, but Ylgr found it almost impossible to stop herself from stumbling – or much worse, from tripping over and crashing to a halt.

The only thing keeping her from falling down—from catching her foot on a stone, or the cracked, uneven ground—was the person pulling her along.

Princess Veronica wasn’t one for patience. When she’d noticed Ylgr lagging behind, gasping and spluttering and struggling to breathe, she’d offered the younger girl her hand. Then, when Ylgr hesitated, she pulled her by the wrist. Hard. Too hard, really; but hard enough to get her moving again.

She couldn’t see a thing. The smoke was too thick, too dark. But Veronica led her through it all the same, yanking her by the arm as they darted through the arches of another ruin and ducked under a half-fallen pillar.

“You’re so slow,” Veronica growled. “Do you _want_ to die?”

“No…!” Ylgr gasped, narrowly avoiding a rock. “I just… I’m so scared…!”

“Good. That means you have common sense.”

“B-but… but I…”

“Stop crying. It’s incredibly annoying.”

They sprinted around a corner, skirting the edge of a wide, bubbling pool of lava that looked more like a cauldron. Ylgr kept glancing behind her, terrified that she’d catch a glimpse of that monster chasing her; but Veronica’s eyes were fixed firmly ahead, never looking back.

She had nothing to gain from taking Ylgr’s hand. It only slowed her down, putting her own life on the line in the process, and Nifl was far more an ally of Askr than Embla. She could have left the helpless little girl to the mercy of Múspell’s flames and worried about herself.

But she hadn’t. Instead, her hand drew down from Ylgr’s wrist, clasping the younger girl’s palm, and squeezed tightly. Unyielding. Even as Múspell’s heat grew more and more intense at their backs—even as Surtr was surely getting closer—she refused to let go.

Maybe it had been pity. Pity for the weakling who couldn’t do anything for herself. Pity for the princess who had lost half her family. Pity for someone her own age – someone who was lost and scared and had no-one else to help her.

Whatever her reason, Veronica had decided that Ylgr’s life was important enough to save. And Ylgr, in turn, had decided there and then—despite her harsh tongue, and her scary looks, and her cold attitude—that the Emblian princess wasn’t a bad person.

* * *

Even so, the first letter had taken Ylgr by surprise.

It was an unassuming little thing. A dark piece of parchment sent to Nifl Castle in the night, folded neatly and sealed by a pretty pattern in wax, with the young princess’s name penned less neatly on the back in a yellow-gold ink. Still, the writer had done their best with the four letters of Ylgr’s name; tried to wrap the ‘Y’ into the ‘l’, tried to thread the ‘g’ with the ‘r’, tried to make it look neat and formal and respectable.

They hadn’t quite managed. But then, Ylgr knew she couldn’t have done any better herself. Just the effort was enough to warm her heart. More than enough, really.

And she’d never had a letter be addressed to _her_ before. There had been letters sent to her mother, or to her siblings, or to the entire Nifl royal family – but this was the very first time she’d seen her own name written down like this. It made her heart feel funny; made something flutter and stir and go so nice and warm.

In the privacy of her room, with the door shut and the windows cracked just slightly ajar to let in the morning air, she sat on the end of her bed and opened the letter carefully, taking care not to tear the paper or scratch the wax seal. From the very first glance—from the messy handwriting and the scribbled-out words—she somehow knew who had written it.

And it delighted her.

> To Princess Ylgr of Nifl,
> 
> I hope this letter finds you well. ~~Bruno~~ My esteemed brother tells me that, given our time imprisoned together three months ago, it would only be proper for me to check up on your wellbeing. I, personally, see little point to the exercise, given that my spies tell me Nifl is recovering alarmingly well from Múspell’s invasion. However, I suppose it’s true that the health of a nation doesn’t always reflect its rulers – and palaces can be such sad, ~~lonely~~ dull places with no-one else to talk to. Embla and Nifl have a strained relationship, but I trust it won’t prohibit me from ~~being worried~~ showing you at least some concern. We have, after all, shared a cell. Sharing a letter or two should hardly cause anyone offense.
> 
> For someone your age, the recent changes in Nifl must be taking a toll. Recounting the details seems meaningless when you have to live with them every day, but know that you have my ~~deepest sympathies~~ condolences. It can be difficult to have your family broken apart without warning. I wish I could lie to you and tell you that it grows easier with time.
> 
> You seem, at the very least, to be blessed with an ~~admirable~~ annoying sort of optimism. Such childishness is usually intolerable, and rarely befitting of a princess, but you have the benefit of being distant from the throne. Savour that. Be happy with who you are, and don’t spend your time worrying over your present situation. Politics make people ever so boring, and you—while irritating—are anything but boring. Your incessant chattering, if nothing else, provided a ~~welcome~~ distraction from that insult of a prison, so perhaps it could do the same for your brother or sister. They may even appreciate it.
> 
> This should go without saying, but this letter is for your eyes only. If you show it to your siblings—or worse still, the Askrans—I’ll ~~pop their heads off like my dolls~~ be very, VERY annoyed. As such, please reply as soon as you’re able. I must be sure that you’ve received it – and that it hasn’t fallen into the hands of someone I’d need to ~~ki~~ politely deal with.
> 
> I suppose I’d also be glad to hear that you’re in good spirits.
> 
> Yours sincerely,  
> Princess Veronica of Embla
> 
> P.S. My brother, upon quite rudely reviewing my writing without permission, tells me that I shouldn’t have mentioned ‘spies’ in an earlier passage, and has insisted that I correct it by way of composing an entirely new letter. But this one by itself really has been a long and tedious matter, and I’ve already made so many corrections that I’m in no longer in any mood to go over it again just to obscure the presence of people who already exist as open secrets.
> 
> Consider it a token of something. ‘Trust’, perhaps.

As Ylgr reached Veronica’s name, her heart leapt in such an odd way; and once she’d made her way to the very bottom, she found herself reading it again and again, revisiting every happy emotion she’d felt the first time through, soaking up every little bit of joy. Even the princess’s condolences—which had first sent a short, sharp pain like a reminder through Ylgr’s chest—seemed so earnest and kind that she couldn’t help but treasure them. 

Veronica had written to her. She’d really _written_ to her! It didn’t even matter if it was at someone else’s insistence, or if it was so scruffy it was difficult to read, or if it was really trying too hard to be formal – it was _something_!

Oh, and it was such a relief, too. After they’d parted ways—after Ylgr had reunited with Fjorm and Hríd, and Veronica with her brother—she’d been so worried that they’d never talk again. Through the war with Múspell, Nifl had become an ally of Askr. If another war broke out between Askr and Embla, they’d have to take Askr’s side. Veronica would become their enemy, and none of Ylgr’s time with her would have meant a thing.

She’d hated it – hated the thought of fighting Veronica, and hated the thought of throwing away the princess’s kindness to her back in Múspell. But now, here was this letter. Proof that Veronica, even three months later, hadn’t forgotten their connection. Proof—as Ylgr read through the scribbled-out lines, giggling at some of her corrections—that she _cared_.

And Ylgr wanted to tell Veronica all that and more. She wanted to tell her that she cared about her, and that she was always thinking about her, and that she was so, so grateful to her for leading her out of Múspell alive.

If Veronica knew—knew how important she was to her—then maybe, Ylgr thought, just maybe, they wouldn’t ever have to fight.

She wanted that. Maybe Veronica would like it, too. Without wasting any more time, she grabbed a bottle of ink and a quill, rolled out some parchment across her desk, and sat down to write her reply.

But there was something intimidating about the emptiness of a blank page. A hundred-thousand possibilities all wrote themselves across it at once, like different words trying to fight their way into her thoughts. Where should she start? Where _could_ she start? How could she tell Veronica how she really felt through a letter? Things that slipped out so naturally in conversation sounded a lot sillier when put down on paper. She didn’t want Veronica to think she wasn’t taking her seriously.

And what kind of tone should she use? Veronica had been formal, and a little stiff – but that made sense. It was the way she spoke, for one, and looking at the corrections, she’d also tried not to seem overly familiar. But Ylgr _wanted_ to seem familiar. That was the whole point! They weren’t strangers, they were friends!

How could she show that while still sounding serious? How could she be friendly without sounding silly?

She tapped the quill against the table, lost in thought. Then, her eyes drifted to the dark letter at her side, flapping ever so gently as the wind slipped into her room.

Was she overthinking it?

Veronica had said to cherish her childishness. Maybe she was worrying too much about being someone she wasn’t. About coming off a certain way to Veronica when the princess already knew perfectly well what to expect from her. Maybe it would have been better to just write how she felt.

So how did she feel?

She drew a deep breath and held the quill in her hand. Then, finding the words, she dipped it in ink and began to write.

* * *

Wandering. That was all Ylgr’s days seemed to be recently: wandering from her bedroom through Nifl Castle’s halls; wandering from the kitchen through to the banquet hall; wandering from the gardens to the foyer to the empty throne room, which seemed colder than it had when she’d been growing up.

She still wasn’t really used to it. The emptiness of the castle. The absence.

Her mother was gone. Gunnthrá was gone. Even Fjorm had left to join the Order of Heroes, eager to repay Nifl’s debt to Askr in full. Hríd was the only one left there with her, but the duties of leadership and the daunting task of rebuilding Nifl took up almost every waking hour of her brother’s day. The training grounds—the courtyard Hrid had practically lived in during happier days—were now as quiet as the rest of the castle, and there weren’t enough soldiers left to fill his very loud absence. Mealtimes, too, were usually taken alone; and on the few days he could find to eat with Ylgr, he always looked so exhausted that she didn’t want to bother him with any more than a few words or a smile.

She didn’t hate him for it. She couldn’t. Her brother was the strongest, smartest, most sensible man she and Fjorm knew. He was doing his best.

But the whole situation would have made anyone feel lonely. And Ylgr couldn’t do lonely.

That might have been why she took such joy in Veronica’s letters – those dark pieces of parchment with her name written in gold, more neatly each time, that arrived from Embla almost weekly now. For just a little while, they helped Ylgr’s room feel like a much warmer place.

In her second letter, Veronica had seemed surprised, despite her insistence, that Ylgr had replied at all. But the sweetness of the younger girl’s words seemed to have surprised her even more, and that second letter had been one of the longest the Niflese princess had ever seen addressed to anyone. She’d offered up another reply, just as cheerful as the last, which had encouraged Veronica to write a third letter, and a fourth; and now the two of them had been exchanging letters constantly for almost four months. Even Ylgr, who kept each of the letters arranged so neatly along her shelf to revisit whenever she felt lonely, hadn’t noticed the time go.

But time had gone all the same – and with each letter, there’d been a wonderful kind of change between them. Whether it was in Ylgr’s happy, outspoken cheerfulness or Veronica’s reserved, sometimes tactless monotone, they found themselves taking more and more opportunities to express their budding affection for each other.

Veronica’s writing, too, had become so much neater. Now that she was writing by choice—or at least, without her brother pestering her—she seemed to take things much more seriously, being thoughtful with her words and making her lettering so neat and elegant that Ylgr could tell she was trying to show off. In one letter, she revealed that she’d gone through two drafts before reaching the one Ylgr had received. In another, she let slip that she’d taken as many as five.

Each letter was full of small surprises like that – little revelations about Veronica, whether she’d realised or not, that made her seem all the more wonderful to Ylgr. Less harsh, less scary, less cold; and more _normal_.

And they really talked about everything. Veronica wrote about her brother, about the different regions of Embla, about her room and her toys and all the different sorts of food she liked; and Ylgr told Veronica all about her siblings, and Nifl, and her dreams of finding love and settling down with someone precious to her.

Sometimes, their conversations turned solemn. Ylgr let out her sadness at the way her family had been torn apart, at the distance she felt from Fjorm and Hríd, at the way she’d been too weak to do anything when Múspell invaded; while Veronica, in turn, confessed all sorts of things that Ylgr had never expected – from her deep loneliness to her fears. The fears surprised Ylgr the most. She hadn’t thought Veronica, so brave and stoic back in Múspell, could have been afraid of anything. 

They tried to help each other through the moments of sadness. Veronica, clumsy as she could be with her words sometimes, always managed to reassure Ylgr that she was doing fine, and that she was being as strong as anyone could be in her circumstances. Ylgr did her best to match her thoughtfulness, even if she wasn’t sure what the Emblian princess meant when she said she was scared of her cursed blood, and being hated by the world, and the voices that sometimes told her to do horrible things.

As she wrote, she could sometimes imagine Veronica sitting there at the other end of her desk, reflected in the clear, icy walls of her room; could imagine talking to her as if she were really there, as if their letters weren’t letters at all but proper conversations like they’d had back in Múspell. She could see those dark red eyes, red as the gems on her headdress. She could see that pale skin, white as the freshly-fallen snow. And she could see—just for a second—that gloomy expression of hers light up with her best attempt at a smile, like a joke only they could understand had soundlessly passed between them.

Then she’d blink, and she’d be all alone again, quill in hand and ink blotting the page.

* * *

This week’s letter, Ylgr noticed, was oddly light. The folded parchment was thin, nothing like the small books Veronica had sent in recent weeks; and when she broke the seal and opened it up, she was disappointed—almost sad, really—to see that it wasn’t any longer than a page. She briefly wondered if she’d said something to upset Veronica, or if she was unwell.

But as she read down the message, her eyes lit up.

> Dear Ylgr,
> 
> I can’t begin to tell you how bored I am. My brother and Xander have left the palace to deal with something important, and it’s all been so insufferably quiet here without them. I’ve no-one to talk to except the guards and the servants, and they’re no fun. They never want to play any games, and they always try to stay away from me. I think I must frighten them. The worst part is that I think I understand why.
> 
> I should be used to it. It’s been this way for most of my life. But even after all these years, I still can’t stand it. I hate it. I hate how nothing ever changes, and how no-one ever wants to talk to me, and how there’s never, ever anything to DO. It’s like I’m stuck in that cell all over again. This time, though, there’s no-one else here with me.
> 
> Back in Múspell, I thought that they couldn’t have possibly locked me away with a more annoying person than you. But I’m starting to realise that I’d rather be trapped with someone a little annoying than with no-one at all.
> 
> It’s been a long time. Seven months, I think. So, if we’re friends, like you’ve always told me, then I want to do something with that. I want to meet you again. I want you to come to Embla and keep me company for a while.
> 
> We’d have the palace all to ourselves. We’d be able to do all the things that friends do in books. I could show you around, and we could have tea in the gardens, and we could play all sorts of games. You could even stay the night, if you wanted; or two nights, or three, or a week, or even longer. I wouldn’t mind. And if anyone else took issue with it, I’d snap every little bone in their body until they learned their manners.
> 
> In several days’ time from now, on the 15th, a carriage will arrive in the Niflese village of Eisekkur. If you go there, look for a woman with hair as blue as ice. I’ve told her to bring you safely to my palace just across the border.
> 
> You don’t have to come. I won’t hold it against you, and I don’t want to force you like I might force someone I cared much less about. But I really, really want to see you.
> 
> Please, Ylgr. You’re the only person I can ask this of.
> 
> You’re my only friend.
> 
> With affection,  
> Veronica

As Ylgr reached the end, the letter all but fell to her lap. Her heart was racing – beating again and again and again with happiness.

She could hardly believe it. An invitation. Veronica wanted to see her…! She really, truly, honestly wanted to see her!

And the 15th… Goodness, that was tomorrow! It was the afternoon now, so if she was there for the morning, then – then she could be with Veronica in less than twenty-four hours…!

A thrill shot through her like lightning. She sprang from her bed and scrambled around her room, gathering up as much as she could cram into her small shoulder bag: her folded nightgown, her scarves, her comb, her favourite book of Niflese fairy tales, a pretty change of dress – and ooh, maybe her telescope! Veronica was always talking about how clear the night skies were in Embla, so Ylgr could only imagine how much she’d love to see them up close. She could point out the constellations, and tell her all about the different stories they had about them in Nifl, and—

She realised, between all her excitement, that she had no idea how Hríd might react to her going off at a moment’s notice. She still hadn’t told him about her friendship with Veronica. She hadn’t wanted him, like the worrywart he was, to prevent her from talking with a girl who could have been their enemy.

And now here she was, a princess of Nifl and an ally of Askr, packing her things for a trip to the Emblian palace. All without his approval.

It’d be lonely for him. Lonely without his little sister. Lonely without anyone else to talk to. Lonely like Veronica was.

But Veronica needed her; had asked for her. For the very first time, she’d even called her a friend.

Hríd had pledged Nifl’s support for Askr in honour of their aid against Múspell. He understood that friends had a duty to each other. So maybe, if she explained everything to him when she returned, safe and sound, and it was clear that Veronica didn’t mean her any harm, he’d also understand why she’d gone to Embla. Maybe he’d even approve.

Even as the thought passed through her head, she knew how unlikely that last bit was.

* * *

That night, Ylgr slipped a small note onto her brother’s desk as he slept. It was shorter than she would have liked, and she’d had to write it in a hurry – but it said enough.

> Brother,
> 
> I’ve left the castle to visit a friend who really needs some help. They don’t live too far away, so I’ll probably only be gone for a couple of days. I’ll tell you more when I get back, so please don’t worry.
> 
> See you soon,  
> Ylgr
> 
> P.S. There’s still a few iced buns left in my room that I didn’t eat last night. They’re really yummy, so don’t you dare let them go to waste!

She left his room, shutting the door just gently enough not to wake him, and then took a deep breath, watching as it condensed in the cold air.

She’d made sure not to pack _too_ much. Veronica had made a good choice with Eisekkur—it was close to both the castle and the border with Embla—but it was still a few hours away on foot. A few hours trudging through the heavy snow, and crossing the icy fields, and passing through the white, frosted forests.

But a cold night was nothing to a princess of Nifl. If anything, it was the sort of adventure she’d craved for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a busy week ahead of me, so I've decided to split this one down the middle -- just in case. All being well, though, it won't be too long before the second part.


	2. A Tightly-Wound Hand in Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After so many months of waiting, Ylgr finally reunites with Veronica.

When Ylgr closed her eyes, she could remember Eisekkur as it had been in happier days – as it had been when she’d last travelled there with her mother and all three of her siblings. Even back then, in the late summer, it had looked like a wonderful scene from a winter festival. Bright, multicoloured lights strung from rooftop to rooftop, casting such beautiful patterns across the speckled snow; frozen trees nestled between the buildings and the cobbled paths, like the whole place had sprung up as naturally as the forest; and all sorts of different stalls lining every street and crowding every corner, selling treats and toys and gifts aplenty.

And the smells – oh, the smells! She could still remember them so perfectly, could almost catch them on the morning wind: cinnamon, and gingerbread, and the sweet, sharp pine of the trees, all trying to draw her in a dozen different directions at once. During that trip, she’d scurried off down one of the alleyways, lured by the scent of candied mincemeat and pies, forcing her siblings—even Gunnthrá, who had always secretly been the fastest of them—to chase after her in good fun; and they’d had the sort of adventure unbecoming of royalty, running through the streets and ducking through the crowds and giggling to their hearts’ content.

It hadn’t been so long ago. Two or three years, maybe. Back then, Ylgr had thought she’d still have so many of those years left: years with her mother, years with Gunnthrá, years with her family all together, rich with happiness and love.

Eisekkur’s people must have thought the same. They must have thought it’d all last forever – the bright lights, and the delicious smells, and the toys cute enough to please a princess. They’d had no reason to expect anything else.

Today, a little over half the village was gone. Múspell’s armies had scorched a path straight through it on their way to Nifl Castle, tearing down the joy and wonder and leaving almost nothing behind. Even the buildings that hadn’t completely burned down were changed – their roofs cracked and crumbled, their windows dim and lifeless if they weren’t boarded up, and their walls scorched and broken. The people were changed, too. Their eyes were dark, as if those bright, strung-up lights had been the only thing giving them colour, and they almost never spoke. Snow settled over the village, much as Ylgr’s mother had always drawn a blanket over her when she shivered in the night – but here, it didn’t bring anyone comfort. The vivid festival of lanterns and laughter had been lost; faded away into a cold husk.

Ylgr kept to herself as she’d entered, pulling up her hood and sticking close to the frost-rimed walls of the houses. If any of the villagers recognised her as a princess of Nifl—recognised the girl who had been there just a few years ago—none of them had the energy left to say anything or care one bit. She was still short enough to draw glances by walking alone, too, but even that didn’t seem to affect them. They only kept their eyes down and their heads bowed, like they hadn’t slept for months, and shuffled listlessly through the streets.

She’d arrived early. The road from the castle had been clear all night, as had the skies, and she’d made good time. She’d been so eager to reach the village for the morning and catch the carriage from Embla that she hadn’t stopped to take a rest; and while she should have felt more tired from her trek, the thought of finally being able to see Veronica again kept her wide awake, nerves dancing with excitement.

And now that she was here—now that she’d seen the state of Eisekkur, seen how sad and empty it looked without the colours, without all the happy, smiling people—she was even more eager to leave it.

A woman with blue hair, Veronica had said. A carriage waiting for her. Were they already here, hidden somewhere between all the trees and ruins, or was she _too_ early? She couldn’t really tell. The sky was still dark, save for the edges tinged with sunrise, and only the wind moved in the silence. With nothing else to do, she found a spot tucked away in the centre of the village and went to stand there, huddling into her scarf and pulling her cloak all the way around her body. She’d wait all the time she needed if it meant she could visit Veronica.

It was strange, really. Besides her family, Ylgr couldn’t say she’d ever felt so excited to see someone before. All they’d done in the time since Múspell was send letters, but she felt like she knew Veronica so well now. All she wanted was to see her face; to talk with her, and laugh with her, and play with her. Like friends. Like family.

That said, after half an hour of waiting, it was starting to get boring. Boring, boring, boring. Without anything to do, her sleepiness was catching up with her, and she could only stare at her surroundings for so long – at the bare trees, scorched and twisted, and at the huts, frail and tired like an old man. She tried counting: first the stones in the cold road, then the stars in the sky. But her attention kept drifting, and she’d only managed to reach eighty-three stones and forty-six stars before even that lost its fun.

She sighed, slumping against a withered tree and gnawing at her nails. They probably wouldn’t turn up until the sun rose. Would she really have to wait here in the cold until then? Until her cheeks had frozen red and her fingers had gone all sore and stiff?

The thought might have come too soon – because just then, there was a crunching of snow, and the soft, steady sound of footprints approaching from behind.

“Princess Ylgr?” A woman’s voice; clear and professional. “I’m here on Princess Veronica’s behalf. She’s sent me to pick you up.”

Ylgr’s breath caught in her throat, and she straightened up, twisting on the spot.

There, only a few feet away, she saw her: a refined-looking lady with blue hair, as icy as Veronica had described, wearing clothes that looked almost like a maid’s. Despite her outfit, she didn’t seem even a little bit bothered by the cold; and she stood in silence, waiting patiently with a polite smile on her face.

Finally, Ylgr found her voice. “You’re… the lady from the letter. Aren’t you?”

The woman bowed her head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, my lady. Princess Veronica talks day and night about you.”

Ylgr felt herself blushing, and something in her chest fluttered. Veronica talked about her?

At her reaction, the smile turned kinder, melting away a few layers of formality. “My name is Flora. I serve the Emblian royal family in the capacity of maid – and, apparently, chaperone.”

She turned on her heel slightly, still giving Ylgr her full attention.

“The carriage is just around the corner. Shall we get going?”

* * *

Ylgr’s experiences of carriages had usually been mixed. In the past, she’d always been packed into the interior, crammed uncomfortably between her siblings or perched on her mother’s lap when she’d been smaller. She’d never been able to see the trotting horses, or the road moving beneath them, or the whole extent of the countryside passing by in a blur of white and blue and green. But Flora had received orders from Veronica, so she said, to oblige the young princess’s every request – and so when Ylgr asked, practically bouncing with excitement, to sit at the very front of the carriage, the maid had gladly helped her up, even making sure she was comfortable with a cushion from the interior.

And from up here, Ylgr saw the whole world differently. It was bigger, broader, even more beautiful, transforming the parts of Nifl she’d never seen before into a wintry wonderland. The morning air had turned fresh and brisk, and the wind brushed through her hair with all the tenderness of her mother’s hand. Even the cold had lost its bite.

As the carriage trundled on, she began to feel drowsy again, lulled by the gentle rocking and the touch of the early sun. But her nerves were back in full swing, and the closer they drew to the border with Embla, the more her head swam with anticipation.

In less than an hour, she’d be with Veronica again. Less than an hour! She almost felt like she needed more time – time to figure out what she’d say, what she’d do, how she’d act. Was it okay to act familiar if they’d only talked through letters? Should she be polite and reserved, as was expected of a princess? Or would that be weird after all their time sharing everything with each other? What if she came off as too annoying, reminding Veronica of all the reasons she’d disliked her in Múspell? When she wrote a letter, there was a limit to how much she could get on Veronica’s nerves – but when they spoke face-to-face, things could go so wrong so easily.

Dozens of introductions gone wrong raced through her mind: being too formal and making Veronica feel alienated; being too enthusiastic and making her uncomfortable; being too playful and making her irritated…

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her palms were damp with sweat, and she wiped them off on her dress.

There was no need to be so nervous. It was Veronica. They were friends. Best friends, in fact! There was no reason for things to be any different than all the times they’d written to each other.

Everything was fine. Everything was going to be okay.

Oh, but she was so anxious…! Even the thought of Veronica’s face was enough to make her heart beat so loudly: _ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum_ , like hooves on the frosted road. And her stomach – her stomach had never felt stranger. It was a little like how she felt all the times she’d eaten too many candies, or all the times she’d peered down over Nifl Castle’s walls and realised how high up she was, or all the times she’d imagined talking with Veronica in person after so many months of letters and finally being able to express just how much she—

“You’re looking nervous, Lady Ylgr.”

Ylgr looked up at Flora, startled by her voice. The maid’s eyes were fixed on the road, but her voice was soft and reassuring.

“If it’s any comfort,” she went on, “Princess Veronica is feeling the same way. She’s probably pacing up and down her bedroom right now, practicing what she’ll say to you when we arrive.”

“You… you think so…?” Ylgr murmured. “You really think she’s as nervous as I am…?”

Again, there was that surprise – that disbelief that Veronica, the girl who had taken her by the hand and saved her life in Múspell, could ever be nervous.

Flora smiled. “I know she is. Whenever Lord Xander or I bring her your letters, she’s beside herself when she thinks no-one’s looking. I shouldn’t say so, really, in my position – but it’s adorable.”

A swell of emotions grew in Ylgr’s chest, and she fought to keep calm.

“You’ve been good for her,” Flora said. “I only entered into her service recently, so I don’t have the full picture. But Lord Xander and Lord Bruno both tell me that something’s changed in the royal palace’s air. It’s less strained, they say; less heavy, less lonely.” She paused, and her expression turned distant. “It can be difficult. Feeling cut off and isolated, I mean. Back in my world—Lord Xander’s world, too—one of his siblings was in a similar position. Confined to a horrible, lonely fortress away from the rest of her family. It must have felt so awful. But the letters she shared with them helped to bridge the gap. They reminded her that there were still people out there who cared for her, even if she couldn’t always be with them.” Her eyes flickered to the side, briefly meeting Ylgr’s, and the smile returned. “It’s the same with Princess Veronica. Your letters mean the world to her.”

“I’m glad,” Ylgr managed, feeling something warm and wonderful blossom in her chest. “I want her to be happy.”

“We all do. Everyone’s better off when they have friends.”

The carriage rolled on, swaying gently with each twist and turn in the road. Silence held for a while – and then Ylgr glanced at Flora again, suddenly curious.

“Did, um… Did you say you’re from a different world, Miss Flora? Like all the people in the Order of Heroes…?”

“I am.” Flora’s grip loosened on the reins, letting the horses navigate a corner. “You might not remember me, but I was in Múspell – pulled into this world and bound to service by its king. And I was there when he died.”

“Surtr…? You mean… when the Order and my sister…?”

A nod. “I understand that his death was no loss to this world’s people. I’d intended to return to my own world the moment I was released – but when I spied Lord Xander among your forces, and came to understand the kindness he’d shown Princess Veronica in becoming her guardian and mentor when she had no-one else, I felt obliged to offer him what assistance I could.” She briefly focused on the horses, then looked down at Ylgr. “My sister’s in this world, too – all the way over in Askr. Some would say that in serving the Emblian royal family, I’ve aligned myself against her. Lord Xander certainly has his concerns. But neither of us see it that way.”

She gave Ylgr one last smile – knowing and kind.

“After all, it’s hard to imagine ever becoming enemies with someone when you write to them almost every week.”

For just a moment, Ylgr felt her heart race with the same happiness she’d felt from Veronica’s very first letter.

* * *

By all accounts, the Emblian royal palace was a structure built from the ground up to impress. Dark, obsidian towers stabbed into the sky, casting long shadows over the surrounding foothills; walls carved from the same sable stone wrapped around a sprawling cluster of elegant buildings, each inlaid with interweaving golden patterns; and the central keep rose highest of all, with thin bridges like spiderwebs stretching from its multiple balconies to the towers. At the tallest point, a flag bearing Embla’s crest in red and black hung still in the windless air.

But as the carriage drew through the imposing gates, and swept past the guards standing at attention, and pulled into the palace grounds, Ylgr wasn’t focused on any of it. She didn’t care about how awe-inspiring the palace was, or how many towers there were, or just how impossibly far up the flag flew.

Instead, her attention was on the girl waiting at the foot of the steps—the hundreds and hundreds of polished stone slabs—leading up to the centre of the palace. The girl with white hair, and sharp red eyes, and dark, elaborate robes, and a golden headdress with the same intricate patterns of the buildings all around them.

“Veronica!” Ylgr squealed.

Much to Flora’s alarm, she leapt off the carriage long before it had stopped moving – and whatever carefully-planned introductions either of them had imagined immediately fell apart as Ylgr hurtled forward, flung out of control by excitement, and threw her arms as tightly as she could around Veronica, all but squeezing the breath out of her.

“Ylgr,” Veronica managed. Her arms were still down by her side, stiff and unmoving in the younger princess’s embrace, and her voice flickered with surprise. “You… really came.”

“Of course I did! Did you think I wouldn’t?”

There was a moment of silence; a quiver of sound escaping Veronica’s lips, as if her voice had failed her.

Then, in the awkward, unsure way of someone who had never tried hugging before, she lifted her arms and held Ylgr back.

“Of… Of course not,” she said quietly. “No-one would ever be so insolent as to refuse the invitation of an Emblian princess.”

Ylgr had forgotten how harsh Veronica’s voice could be, and she was briefly terrified that she’d said something wrong, or gone a step too far in her hug. But then it took on a soft, gentle lilt – unlike anything she’d ever heard from her before.

“You’re shorter than I remember.”

Feeling a wave of relief, Ylgr smiled into their hug, her eyes positively sparkling. “You’re taller.”

“One would hope, given seven months. Perhaps I’ve simply grown up more.”

In Múspell, it would have been a barbed insult. But here, in Veronica’s arms, they’d become the teasing words of a friend.

Finally, they separated – though their hands were still tightly clasped together, not wanting to let go. Just as it had been back then.

“I missed you,” Ylgr said, barely whispering. “I’ve wanted to see you again for so, so _long_.”

“I’ve felt… much the same.” Veronica was still quiet, as if anxious of being overheard even in the solitude of the grounds. “Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second.”

Ylgr giggled, beaming so widely that her mouth ached at the ends – and she realised, seeing the Emblian princess’s reaction, that her imagination had never even come close to capturing just how amazing Veronica looked when she smiled.

* * *

Nifl Castle felt empty at the best of times. The icy halls stretched on forever and ever, twisting up and down in a maze-like loop, and because Ylgr’s mother had only ever kept a small handful of trusted servants in her service, it was easy—even in better days—to wander the castle for hours without seeing another person.

But here in the Emblian royal palace—here, as its princess led her friend through a hall that could have fit an entire castle, as they walked past dozens and dozens of empty rooms and wound through endless identical corridors, as their footsteps echoed off the high walls and the sounds of their hushed voices grew a hundred times louder—Ylgr finally understood why Veronica felt so lonely on her own.

“I’ve never been anywhere so huge before,” she said. “I’d get lost just living here…”

“At least getting lost would be exciting,” Veronica muttered. “I hate it. It’s all so boring. So stupid. There’s so many rooms, but none of them have anything _fun_ to do. Even my brother doesn’t know what half of them are for. The guards don’t patrol them. The servants don’t clean them. There’s no point to any of it.”

They held hands as they walked through the halls, letting their shoulders brush. Every so often, Ylgr stole glances up at the other girl. Up, not across, since Veronica really had grown: almost half a head taller since they’d last seen each other. Her expression was still cold, and those red eyes were filled with nothing but scorn for the dark walls hedging her in – but her hand was so soft and warm. When she squeezed, Veronica squeezed back; and when Veronica’s grip tightened, like she was afraid of letting her slip through her fingers and losing her, Ylgr happily drew a little closer against her, chest tightening.

She felt so lucky to have Veronica as a friend; to see the side of her that no-one else had been allowed to see. She felt like the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world – and all the worlds beyond it, too.

“Is it different to yours, then?” Veronica asked. “Your home?”

“Um… Kind of. It’s a lot smaller.”

“Smaller. I see.” She fell silent for a moment, focusing on the word. “So it’s less lonely?”

“I don’t know. I have my brother there, but…” She hesitated; swallowed, then continued. “It used to be nicer. When my mother was alive, and my oldest sister – and when our whole family was still together… I liked it more.”

“It reminds you of what you no longer have. Is that correct?”

“Mm.” Ylgr nodded, small and weak. “I’m getting used to it, I think. But I miss it sometimes…”

Another squeeze – this time from Veronica. Ylgr returned it gladly.

“It’s okay, though.” She found her strength again, and smiled as widely as ever. “I’ve got you now. So long as I’m with you, or reading your letters, all the loneliness goes away, and… and I’m so, so happy.”

Veronica’s gaze fell to the floor – and her lips drew up into another smile.

“How annoying. I was about to say the same.”

* * *

All afternoon, the two of them made the most of their time together. Veronica took Ylgr to the royal gardens—one of the only places in the palace, she said, that could bring herself to love—and they sat surrounded by hedges trimmed into breathtaking patterns by unseen gardeners and flowers blossoming in vibrant colours unheard of in Nifl. Flora, ever on silent standby, served the most delicious tea Ylgr had ever tasted, along with pastries so fluffy and sweet that her stomach jittered with joy just at the sight of them.

And as they did in their letters, they talked. They talked about anything and everything: they talked about their hopes for the future, and about themselves and each other, and about Embla and Nifl and the little bits of Askr that Veronica admitted, for Ylgr’s ears only, to admiring. They talked and talked and talked until the sun went down and the sky fell dark; and after that, for good measure, they talked some more.

Finally—finally, after so many months—they weren’t held back by the limits of ink and parchment, by a week’s wait between every letter, by the boundaries of two kingdoms and the politics neither of them cared one bit for.

No – now, they could talk as much as they wanted. They could be together as much as they wanted. Nothing could get in their way.

They were friends.

High above them, the stars twinkled in the night sky; and Ylgr shared her telescope with Veronica, showing her all the different constellations she knew.

“Do you see those two stars there? Down there, beneath the dragon and the boat.” She pointed upward, and Veronica, peering through the telescope, followed her finger. “The ones right next to each other.”

“Yes. I see them.”

“In Nifl, we call them the Two Lords. There’s a story about them.”

A pause. “Go on.”

“Well, um… it says that once upon a time, two princes from enemy nations fell in love from far away – but they couldn’t be together because of a war their parents had been fighting for a long, long time. So they flew up to the heavens, where they didn’t have to worry about anything else, and embraced, becoming stars. To be together forever.”

“It’s so dark around them,” Veronica observed. “Haven’t they anyone else up there?”

Ylgr shook her head. “They had quiet lives, and they never told anyone else about their plans… or their love. So no-one went up to join them. But they didn’t need anyone else. So long as they had each other, that was enough.” She sighed, long and wistful. “They’re so lucky – finding love despite everything…”

There was a long, sleepy silence. The wind blew softly through the grass, and far in the distance, Ylgr could hear the chirping of an insect that had somehow made its way all to the top of the enormous palace.

Then, Veronica spoke.

“Is the story always told with princes?” she asked. “Or could they be princesses, too?”

“I’m not sure,” Ylgr said, breaking into a clueless yawn. “I’ve never thought about it before. But… I think they could.”

Even as Veronica’s eyes were still glued to the sky, admiring each and every shining star, she seemed to like that answer.

For the entire evening, right up until they went to bed, her free hand never left Ylgr’s – wound as tightly as it had been in Múspell.

* * *

Not for the first time that night—taking a rare break from the tedious stack of documents and petitions on his desk—Hríd read through the messy note Ylgr had for him as he’d woken up. Under most circumstances, he would have been alarmed to find her vanished without any warning – or any trace, save for a small slip of paper.

But at the mention of her ‘friend’, he hadn’t been able to suppress a smile.

The first letter had hardly escaped his notice. He, too, had seen the dark parchment, the messy handwriting spelling out an approximation of Ylgr’s name – and the unmistakable seal of the Emblian royal family. Of course such an important document would have been brought to his immediate attention.

He hadn’t opened it, though. He hadn’t opened any of them. Whatever words Princess Veronica had for his sister weren’t any of his business; nor was the reply Ylgr had decided to send back, or the letter that had arrived in turn, or any of the piles upon piles of correspondence they’d shared in ‘secret’ for months now.

It was his duty to stay vigilant. For Nifl’s safety, Embla had to be regarded as a potential threat: an enemy of their ally, and one led by an uncertain agenda. But if Ylgr trusted Princess Veronica enough to call her a friend—enough to run off in the night, as a servant had reported to him, all the way to Eisekkur and beyond—then he, in turn, would trust his sister’s judgement.

Perhaps, if their friendship was genuine enough, there was hope for both their kingdoms yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been quite the change of pace, hasn't it? What an unusual story to post on Halloween...but maybe a bit of unconditional wholesomeness is warranted between all the spooks and scares ~~and the impending political firestorm in the US~~. Next week is likely back to my, ahem, _regular_ kind of content: I've still got a handful of requests I'm very much interested in tackling, but if you've got any burning suggestions for F/F rarepairs, I'm always happy to jot them down.
> 
> And, if you're interested in updates on my writing, follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ExaltedBrandAO3)! It's useful some of the time, which is at least a little better than none of the time.


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